The Birds & The Bees
by unicornball
Summary: Dean walks past the brightly decorated shop, The Birds & The Bees, every morning on his way to work. One day he sees Cas inside and he make sure he walks past everyday. One of these days he'll get the nerve to go inside... (Destiel. AU. Rated T; mature language and mild adult content.) Complete.


_(A/N: Rated **T** for mild mature content and some language._

 _Well, here's another prompt fic that got stuck in my 'ideas' folder for ages until I found it again and wrote it out. It was fun, though, so I have no regrets._

 _Prompt: "_ Cas owns & runs this [fic pic] store. Dean walks past it every morning on his way to work & sees Cas inside. one day he gets the nerve to go inside & he pretends he's interested in buying some clothes...Cas is doubtful given the way Dean is dressed. Cas is finishing up his breakfast ..honey on toast... he has a smudge of honey above his top lip & Dean licks his thumb & wipes it off ooh sooo slowly before he can even register what he is doing... he gets all embarrassed... apologising profusely... but as he goes to pull away...Cas grabs his arm & pulls him closer ... blushy!Dean domTopCas. could escalate to Cas turning the closed sign & some dressing room sexy times _"_

 _And there we go._

 _Warnings/tags: AU. MalexMale slash. Mild smutty fun. Language._

 _Enjoy.)_

* * *

Dean checks the time and mutters a curse under his breath when he realizes he's running late. Dammit, if he doesn't leave now, he'll have to skip the scenic route and go directly to work. He hurriedly pours his coffee into a travel mug, ignoring the angry sizzles when he grabs the coffee pot from the maker before its finished brewing. Sam can bitch at him later for the burned coffee stains. He nearly spills hot coffee as he rushes out the door, absently checking the fit on the cup's lid.

Shit. 10 minutes is cutting it close.

He hurries down the walk, passing his car without a second glance. Some things are more important than a cushy ride, though he'd never be caught saying that aloud. He might even be power walking, something he's seen Sam do once or twice, as soon as he hits the corner.

Then, as is his creepy stalker habit, Dean crosses the street and slows to a snail's pace as he sips at his coffee, gaze trained across the street.

The huge show window for _The Birds & The Bees_ is brightly lit, brightly (and so khaki and pastel-ly) decorated and contains the world's hottest fucking guy known to man. Seriously, a dude in a bright yellow polo and pressed khakis should not look that good.

It's ridiculous but Dean is pretty much helpless against the impulse to come to a stop and lean against the huge oak tree. Half-hiding behind it, but mostly using it as something to lean on so he can waste the 5 minute head-start he has this morning staring like a weirdo into the store across the street. It's become somewhat of a habit since he first walked past the store a few days ago and saw the man. He didn't normally notice the store but he did that day. He hasn't quite worked up to going inside, yet, so he just... looks.

He jumps and spills a little coffee out of the little sip-hole when his phone vibrates against his leg and suddenly blasts the opening chords of _Sad But True_. He fumbles it, groaning a little at being interrupted during what is (pathetically) the best part of his morning. Damn Sam. He considers ignoring it but his brother will only keep calling until he answers.

For a gihugic egghead, his brother is pretty damn stupid when it comes to leaving messages or typing a damn text.

"What?" he grunts into the phone, 90% of his attention on the man moving around the window, adjusting collars on the mannequins' shirts and smoothing creases. He silently prays the guy will bend over to get the pants' cuffs just right...

"Wow, who pissed in your Wheaties?" Sam answers back.

Dean rolls his eyes but they're right back at the display window. The guy is dusting figurines or something, but at least he's still in the window.

"What do you want, Sam? I'm kinda running late," he says, not even bothering to check the time. His lips pinch on the urge to laugh when he hears Sam's long-suffering sigh through the phone, practically seeing the accompanying bitch-face that's, no doubt, scrunching up his brother's face.

"You forgot the shopping list, Dean."

Oh. Right. Oops.

}i{

Dean wakes up to the sound of rain. He has a perfectly good car but he let Sam borrow it one day and had to walk to work. And well, the weather is nice these days and it's not a long walk, so he's been walking since his... thing with the window-shopping started. And he's officially a complete and total loser when his first thoughts center around how much his walk will suck in the rain.

And really, that's when he decides to just stop already. So, he decides to drive in.

But he can't help making a quick stop since he's left early enough. He manages to find an open parking meter only a few doors down from the shop and feeds the meter, still smiling smugly at his mad parallel parking skills, darting into the store before he can get too wet.

As many times as he's peeked in the window, he's really not prepared for how bright the place is inside. Not just from the cheery (and totally vintage—he'd bet a week's pay) lights overhead, but the merchandise and kitschy décor. The theme from the window display has oozed out into the store; there's a lot of pastels and whitewashing in the joint. He almost wishes he had ruthlessly stomped the impulse to finally come in.

He sticks out like a sore thumb and he's backing towards the door when he hears a deep voice call out a reasonably cheery 'Be right with you!' in greeting. Before Dean can mutter something in apology and slam back out through the door, _he_ walks towards him, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

And holy shit, up close the guy's blue eyes are unreal. Dean swallows a few times, feeling his ears go warm. There's a very strange and nearly foreign sensation of nerves crawling along his skin, settling in his belly and tightening his stomach as he watches the guy approach, a small, polite but welcoming, smile on his face.

He doesn't get nervous, for fuck's sake. He can charm the pants off anyone. It's completely ridiculous that right this moment his tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth and his palms feel hot and sweaty.

Castiel tries not to gawk, he really does, but he can't help checking out the man standing in his store, dripping onto his floor and looking completely stunned to be indoors. He's handsome, even wet and slightly wide-eyed. He wants to ask if the man is lost. Because after taking (another) thorough look over the man, Castiel is quite sure there's very little chance of the man wanting something from his store.

"May I help you?" he asks, shuffling back two steps when the man's body tenses and he looks down in something akin to panic as he takes in their close proximity. He hadn't realized he was so close.

Dean blinks a few times, still trying to associate that voice with that face. It's... fuck. It's sexy as hell and he's struck dumb by very inappropriate thoughts. Seriously, it's probably illegal in a few states to think this kind of stuff in public.

Or at least just downright rude when the guy is right in front of you, smiling politely and just trying to do his damn job.

"Sammy likes khaki," he blurts out. He'd clamp a hand over his stupid mouth if he hadn't stuffed them into his soggy pockets… But as it is, he just nods like he totally meant to nearly shout that out. Totally normal thing to say. It must work, though, because instead of kicking his ass outside, or looking at him like he's sprouted another head, the guy—Castiel, he finally notices the name-tag—just nods and offers another polite smile.

Castiel waits a few beats for more information, but the man doesn't say anything else. "Um. Size?" he asks, unwillingly wondering who 'Sammy' is and how close they are that the man would venture so far out of his comfort zones for them.

"I don't know," Dean admits. It's not exactly something he thinks about the few times he's had to buy clothes for his brother, Sam can totally buy his own stuff. It was easy when Sam was younger and he just had to remember how old Sammy was. Now he just gets whatever's marked 'Sasquatch' size and calls it a day. "Uh." He purses his lips as he thinks, raising his hand until it's a few inches above his head. "He's, like, six-four if that helps?"

Castiel blinks, taken aback slightly at the measurement. It does help—a little. "Average weight?"

"Uh, probably not. Sammy's a health-nut, so he's—" Dean makes a gesture at his arms and body, wordlessly implying that Sam's sporting muscle pretty much everywhere. Sam says it's the yoga, but whatever. Dean isn't downwarding his dog anytime soon so he usually zones out when Sam gets into the hippy-talk.

He can't help but relax a little when Castiel's eyebrows pop up, a borderline pissy look creasing his face for a moment. He grins, feet shuffling as he eases into a more relaxed pose. "Sorry, man. I'm not helping, am I?"

"Not exactly," Castiel admits, shaking his head a little and trying not to find the entire exchange endearing. Or at all an attempt at flirting since the man is most likely shopping for a significant other. "Let's see what we can find, then, hmm?"

Dean just nods and hurries to follow when Castiel turns and walks away, making a beeline for a clothing rack of that's an alarming rainbow in shades of khaki, baby blue, pink and mint green. He nearly calls out, tells the guy he's changed his mind, but Castiel turns towards him with a smile and such a hopeful expression on his face, he doesn't.

He ends up buying a pair of khakis he hopes are big enough to fit his brother and a soft cotton, long sleeved button up shirt in a light green plaid. He probably wouldn't have gotten the damn shirt if Castiel didn't mention how nicely it would go with hazel eyes.

Dammit.

}i{

He tries not to go in everyday, but he can't help wandering by even on the days he doesn't go in. He can't stop the habit of watching overnight...

The third time he enters the store, he accidentally calls the guy Cas. He should probably apologize, they're not friends or anything no matter how many times he might've imagined saying it, but swallows the words when Castiel only smiles at him and keeps talking.

"This your place?" Dean asks, looking through a rack of bee-themed accessories. He kinda likes the tie with the little embroidered bees all over it. If only he actually needs a tie. He turns to give Cas his attention, trying not to openly ogle the guy's bent over ass as he adjusts something on a low shelf.

As Cas stands, Dean nearly loses it when he sees it's a bunch of beehive shaped cookie jars. It's stupid cute, really, how much stuff has bees on it. He never would've guessed it was such a thing actually exists until he started coming in here. There are bees on every-friggin-thing imaginable.

"Yes," Castiel says, adjusting a cookie jar with his fingertip. "How did you know?"

Dean laughs, hiding a pleased smile by rubbing a fist over his mouth. "Lucky guess, really." He doesn't know if it's creepy to admit that Cas is one of the few constant employees he's seen in the store. That, and the guy can go on forever talking about bees. He was almost late to work the day he asked Cas which kind of honey was the best.

He's still not sure, having gotten lost mid-conversation because he'd been staring at Cas' mouth and the way his hands gestured as he spoke. Cas has nice hands; long, dexterous fingers that always seem in constant motion but in a calm way that's nice. He's staring at them now as Cas discusses... something. He's not listening. He knows he should pay attention and drags his gaze away from Cas' hands with an effort and up to Cas' eyes.

He tunes back into the conversation, snapping out of his reverie. It's not hard to talk to Cas, even if he doesn't know about bees and bee-themed tchotchkes, because Cas can talk about anything. And listen when Dean invariably talks about his job or Sam. He probably should shut up, but Cas looks genuinely interested, not just politely so since he's a customer, and he can't seem to hep himself.

This time he ends up getting some bumblebee barrettes for his friend Charlie. The wings are on little springs so they flutter adorably. If Cas wonders why he buys them, he doesn't ask. Just smiles and bags them. Dean grabs them and practically runs out, feeling flustered and annoyed at feeling flustered.

}i{

Sam looks from the receipt to the storefront, double checking he's at the right place. He frowns as he looks up at the sign, the merchandise visible through the large window. Dean shopped _here_? Willingly? Though, he thinks the cute salesgirl named Cas has more to do with it than Dean being nice and getting him a new shirt just because.

He checks the receipt one last time before pushing through the door.

The place is bright and cheery. He likes it. He looks around before heading to the sales desk. There's a guy behind it, smiling politely, somehow making the yellow polo shirt work. It's probably the stubble, dark hair and blue eyes.

"Hi, can I make an exchange—" Sam's gaze drops to read the name tag. "Castiel?" His brows furrow a little. By the time Castiel is nodding and reaching for his bag, Sam is convinced he's crazy for thinking this is 'Cas'. No way would Dean make those faces and use that stupid gushy tone about a guy. An attractive, nice guy, but still—a _guy_.

Castiel pulls the garment from the bag and feels an odd feeling swoop through his belly as he looks at it. It's the shirt Dean bought. He helped pick it out, spending an inordinate amount of time helping since Dean spent a hefty amount of the time talking about his car and _Sammy_ instead of offering an opinion on the clothing selection.

He looks up and yes—those are hazel eyes. Dean had said hazel (well, he'd assumed hazel when Dean shrugged and said "I dunno, brownish green or something") and he'd helped pick the light colored plaid to accentuate rather than detract.

Castiel has a rather uncharitable thought about wishing he'd picked something more garish, squinting at the tall, attractive man holding a shirt purchased for him by Dean. It's silly to feel that tiny burn of jealousy, but there it is. He pastes on a smile, reminding himself he doesn't have anything with Dean and that he is a professional.

Sam looks around the store as the clerk fondles his shirt, smoothing it out and refolding it a couple times. It's a little crinkled from being in the bag and tossed in the back of the car for a few weeks, but he's pretty sure that doesn't mean he can't exchange it. He shifts on his feet, about to ask if there's a problem, when the clerk finally looks up again and gives him a wooden, polite smile.

"So, I'd like to exchange if you have a bigger size?" he half-asks, half-says, unsure. Because, really, it's a nice shirt but he can't usually buy off the rack. He looks around the store, but there's not a whole lot that catches his interest to get instead. "If not, I can just take a refund."

Castiel narrows his eyes a little, offended on Dean's behalf. "You'd return a gift?" He rolls his lips over his teeth and mentally curses himself. Very unprofessional. Before the man can respond, he holds up a hand and apologizes. "I'm sorry, that's none of my business. I'll show you our selection of shirts and we'll see if we can find a more fitting size."

Sam just nods, a little confused for a moment, but Castiel comes from around the counter and takes off into the store. He has to hurry to keep up, eyebrows popping up with a fresh bout of curiously to see the guy obviously agitated. Maybe the return procedure is a pain in the ass and he's not looking forward to doing it.

He pushes some hangers around, looking through the selections on the rack. As he thought, the size he has is the biggest. It fit OK but the arms were too short and he's over rolling them if he doesn't have to.

"Sorry," Sam says earnestly, hoping the guy will snap out of his pissy mood and he can get out of there quickly.

Castiel glances up and tucks the shirt close. "Not a problem," he says coolly. "Refund it is, then."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," Sam says, glancing at Castiel with confusion again. Seriously. What the hell. Why did Dean keep coming here if the clerks were borderline dicks to their customers? He follows Castiel back to the counter and sighs softly. "Sorry for the trouble, but my brother isn't the best when it comes to shopping for me."

Castiel pauses and looks up, eyes narrowing a little. Brother? Of all the times Dean spoke of his brother and Sammy, he's never connected the two as the same person. Dean speaks so differently when he's talking about 'Sammy' versus his 'little brother'. He nearly face-palms at his own obliviousness.

"Brother."

Sam nods. "Yeah." He looks around the store, hoping someone else is there to help. Maybe the nice, pretty Cas. But no, he's stuck with the guy glowering across the counter at him, eyes all squinty and piercing like he's trying to see into Sam's soul.

"Your brother," Castiel repeats, a curious feeling bubbling through him. This man is Dean's brother, younger brother (but not at all _little_ ). He feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment. He's been rather boorish... "My apologies, Sammy. I-I know your brother. I was, um, taken by surprise."

Sam's eyebrows pop up again and he finally realizes there is no other Cas. _This_ is Dean's Cas, the one he's been subtly gushing about and driving Sam crazy wondering why the hell Dean hasn't just asked Cas out and stop bothering _him_ about it. He leans back a little, surprised. OK, so maybe it's not a huge surprise Cas is a guy. He's lived with Dean forever, so it's not like he hasn't noticed where his brother's eyes wander on occasion.

Still. He'd never expected Dean to actually say anything about it.

Huh. That's definitely a first that he can remember.

"It's just Sam," he finally says, recovering from his surprise. "And it's not a problem." He looks around the store again, taking in the bright colors and cheery decor. The bees everywhere (that totally explains Dean's new black and yellow travel mug). So weird Dean likes this place, though he's beginning to realize it's not the store so much as Castiel. That's not at all surprising. Not after that time Dean spent a week going to the library because the librarian was 'seriously porno hot, Sammy'.

He settles himself at the counter. Castiel's overall demeanor has changed to something more friendly, his smile less forced and tense, and Sam's curiosity is piqued once again. "So, Dean comes in here a lot, huh?"

Castiel looks down and starts the refund process, hoping Sam can't see how flushed he is at the mention of Dean. "Occasionally," he says quietly. Dean is, oddly enough, one of the most loyal customers, even if he doesn't always buy something. Dean stops in frequently and always has a spare few minutes to talk with him about whatever comes to mind. He eagerly looks forward to the days Dean comes in.

Sam watches Cas' fingers work the register, deft and fast. He'll be out of there in no time if he doesn't hurry up. "So, he ask you out yet?"

Castiel stills. "Beg your pardon?"

Sam grins when Castiel looks up quickly, eyes wide. He knows he's being an 'annoying little brother' but this is too good to pass up. "Dean. Has he asked you out yet? He's always talking about you. It's always Cas this, Cas that. I mean, I just figured he'd have asked you out by now. It's not like Dean to be this..." he trails off, looking for a word that fits. "Shy," he says, shrugging. It's close enough.

"What?" Castiel breathes, throat tight, body hot. Dean talks about him? To Sam?

He thinks back, trying to remember if anything Dean's ever said, or done, could be seen as a flirtation. There were a few moments... but he'd brushed them off, hadn't taken them seriously, convinced Dean was just being nice, assuming it was Dean's usual gregariousness. Especially after the time Dean flirted outrageously with Nora, giving her a charming grin and a wink before he walked out.

Sam laughs, unable to help it. Castiel looks stunned and Sam nearly rolls his eyes at his brother. Leave it to Dean to get all flustered the one time he actually sounds interested in someone. He won't be surprised if Dean was having daydreams of him and Cas in a cute little house with a white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a dog or something equally saccharine and domestic. Not exactly Dean's deal, but he's seen that spacey look on people enough times to know what it means.

"Oh yeah," he says earnestly, leaning against the counter. "I mean, I was just wondering. Did he ask and you said no?" he teases. He's guessing by the look on Castiel's face, saying 'no' is the furthest thing from his mind.

Castiel merely shakes his head, still processing Sam's words. The register popping open for the refund startles him and he's flustered as he counts out the refund. He slides a slip across the counter for Sam to sign, fingers a little shaky as he searches for a pen. Dean wants to ask him out? Dean is interested? In _him_? He's still in a bit of a daze as he hands Sam his money, nodding mutely when Sam wishes him a good day and waves as he leaves.

He spends the rest of the day in a daze, lost in thoughts of Dean.

}i{

Dean eases the door closed behind him and sees Cas behind the counter, frozen and wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. It takes a moment for him to realize he's caught Cas eating. He's not sure what to make of the smile Cas gives him around his toast when he relaxes. It's probably really sappy, but he's pleased Cas just goes back to his breakfast instead of making himself presentable for a customer.

He leans an elbow on the counter and grins. "Mornin', Cas," he says with a wink, waiting until Cas is mid-bite. And by the irritated look Cas gives him, he isn't amused.

Castiel hurriedly chews and swallows. "Hello, Dean." He smiles warmly, trying to ignore the way Dean's eyes dart down to his mouth. "I saw Sam the other day."

"Sam?" Dean blinks, dazed. There's a little spot of honey on the corner of Cas' mouth and lower lip. It's really fucking distracting. "Oh yeah?" he asks dumbly, still staring. But then Cas' words sink in and he feels his face warm. Oh fuck. If Sam came in here— He should've known the little jerk was going to return the shirt. So much for 'it's nice, thanks, Dean'.

He doesn't know what to say to that... There's a good chance Sam opened his big mouth. There's an equal chance Sam didn't speak to Cas, just returned his shirt and left. Cas isn't giving anything anyway, though. Just smiling and taking another bite of his honey-smeared toast. It looks like that whipped stuff that Cas says is good on everything from toast to cake.

"Yes," Castiel hums in agreement, pushing the last of his toast in his mouth and brushing crumbs from his hands. "He's quite nice. You gave the impression otherwise."

Dean laughs, he can't help it. "All little brothers are annoying."

"He isn't little," Castiel points out dryly. "I'm a younger brother, though, so I'm sure my eldest brothers would agree with you."

Dean chuckles, smothering the urge to tell Cas there's no way he was an annoying little brother. But. Well. He really can see it... especially if Cas was this weird as a kid. He'd've had a hard time not giving him noogies and supergluing him to things, too.

But not now.

Now he's thinking of Cas anything but annoying or a little brother. Now he's staring at Cas' mouth again, licking along his own bottom lip to tongue the corner of his mouth as he stares at Cas'. He doesn't think about it, he just reaches out and wipes the smear of honey off Cas' mouth, popping his thumb in his mouth a moment later.

And shit.

That was weird. He shouldn't have—

He stills when Cas' hand wraps around his wrist. He glances down to where Cas' hand is wrapped around his wrist and doesn't feel the urge to pull away. And fuck it all, he's blushing again. "I'm, uh— Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—" Dean stops talking when Cas' fingers tighten a little and he starts walking around the counter, staring as Cas pulls on his arm. He swallows thickly and just goes with it, walking around the counter to meet Cas since he hasn't let go of Dean's arm.

Judging by the look on Cas' face, the guy isn't about to punch him.

"You've been flirting with me," Castiel says, voice low and intimate. Dean's only a few inches away so doesn't need to speak any louder. He feels a giddy thrill work through him when Dean licks his lips nervously, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows and nods, a light pink on his cheeks again. And it's an incredible feeling to know he's made Dean blush. Dean—the man that spoke candidly about a 'bendy weekend' in his early twenties and flirted shamelessly with anyone that looked at him twice.

He steps closer, close enough their chests are nearly touching. "Were you ever going to do anything about it? Perhaps ask me out?" he asks, gaze dipping to Dean's parted mouth when it drops open a little in surprise.

"Uh, maybe?" Dean mutters, shifting on his feet. Cas is close enough Dean can feel the heat coming off his body, the friendly smile gone and replaced with an intense look that makes him hot and tingly all over. "I mean, I was thinking about it? But uh, I didn't know if..." he trails off, embarrassed as hell he can't say it aloud. Can't admit he didn't think Cas would be interested.

Castiel takes a chance and slides the hand he has on Dean's wrist up his arm. Dean leans into the touch instead of away. "Know if what?" he prompts. He looks up, tempted to press his lips to Dean's still-pinked cheeks.

Dean opens his mouth a few times, but nothing comes out. It seems kinda stupid now... It wasn't like he usually let uncertainty stop him from at least asking. He'd heard 'no' enough times to stay (mostly) humble, but he hadn't been able to work himself up for the possible 'no' from Cas. Not yet.

He blinks slowly as Cas backs away and Dean is convinced he's already fucked up. He watches, silent and berating himself, when Cas goes to the front door. The store is empty except for them and he's confused for a few seconds when Cas locks the door and then turns the 'Open' sign to 'Closed'. Cas turns back around and a hot spike of nerves and excitement goes through him.

Shit, the last time someone looked at him like that, he spent a great few hours in the closest motel.

Cas is back in his personal space, eyes dark and intent on his mouth. He licks his lips, unable to help the impulse. Apparently, it's some kind of signal for Cas because he's pressed back against the counter, Cas' lips on his, a moment later. And then, _holy shit_ , they're kissing. He can't help the sound he makes as he tastes honey, licking with a little more exuberance than usual when Cas moans into his mouth. Dean doesn't know where to put his hands for a moment, but he settles them on Cas' hips, one hand sneaking back a little further to palm Cas' ass.

Castiel pulls away, licking his lips and humming softly. The urge to drag Dean into one of the fitting rooms is strong and he doesn't think Dean would protest one bit. He glances at the back of the store, considering, before looking back to Dean. He's never done such a thing before and he's concerned Dean will get the wrong impression.

"Wanna go out with me?" Dean blurts out in his least smooth offer for a date possibly ever, but Cas smiles, dipping his head in a nod. He's about to mentally congratulate himself on a job well done when he's being man-handled again. Instead of the counter pressing into the small of his back, he's being directed to the back of the store.

Towards the fitting rooms.

He moans a little, unable to keep it in, when he has a good idea where this is going. Cas gently shoves him in the first little room, pressing close as he closes and locks the door behind him. He swallows thickly, trying to prepare himself for what's coming. But he can't—this is all new territory.

Dean is about to say as much, maybe offer an apology for not knowing what to do, when Cas presses in close again, muffling anything he might've said with another kiss. And damn, it's one of the best he can remember, even with the scratch of stubble and lightly chapped lips, blunt nails sliding up the side of his neck to cup the back of his head in a big hand.

Or maybe because of it. He doesn't know, just that it's awesome and he feels really stupid he hasn't tried for this sooner.

Dean groans softly when Cas presses close enough to have their bodies tightly pressed together. He groans again when he feels the hot press of Cas' erection against him. Of all the times he's imagined this sort of thing, he had no idea how much he'd like the way it feels. It ramps up his own excitement, almost insanely turned on to know Cas is just as turned on as he is. Any lingering embarrassment about his own tented jeans is gone, disappearing with the aroused grunt Cas makes as presses closer, pressing their hips together with determination.

The clinking of belt buckles has him looking down, wide-eyed. He breathes out an encouraging little "Yeah" when Cas finally gets his zipper down and a hand slides into his boxer-briefs.

}i{

Cas' hair is still a bit of a mess when they sit across from each other later, both of them digging into Dean's favorite greasy double-bacon-cheeseburger (no onions this time though, because he can't stop staring at Cas' mouth and hoping for another kiss or two).

Dean's not sure this counts as a date, but Cas is here with him so he'll worry about the details later.


End file.
